Dressed in satin and lace, ribbons and pearls, she lacked only some of her exquisite jewelry to look every inch the countess she was about to become.
Not that it mattered, of course.
She could be wearing a burlap sack, and he would marry her.
AS SHE CAME down the inn’s staircase with Kendra, Amy saw Jason jiggle Colin’s elbow. Colin slowly rose to his feet.
“Oh my goodness,” she whispered to no one in particular. He was quite simply the most magnificent male she’d ever seen. Once, months ago in her shop, she’d been overwhelmed by his good looks, but that initial impression had long since been replaced by a sense of the complex mix of heart and intellect that, to her, was Colin.
Now, seeing him dressed for his wedding—their wedding—the awe came rushing back.
The handsome planes of his face were clean shaven, and his freshly washed hair hung in dark waves to his shoulders. But it was his formal clothing that transformed him in Amy’s eyes—a black velvet suit that reminded her of the one she’d found in the chest at the foot of his bed at Greystone.
Given Colin’s simple tastes, the suit was a passable nod to fashion, the breeches fuller than he preferred, though not the divided skirts called “petticoat breeches” that were in vogue. Where a dandy’s apparel would be dripping in looped ribbons—cuffs, waist, and epaulettes—Colin’s was finished with gold braid. His full, snow-white shirt was trimmed with lace at the gathered cuffs. Matching lace adorned the cravat that flowed over the collar of his short doublet, Amy’s gold-edged cameo pinning it in place. The signet ring she’d made for him was his only other jewelry.
Though Jason and Ford were decked out in similar finery, she had eyes only for Colin. When he started toward her, she saw he was wearing shoes—shoes, not boots!—heeled, with high tongues and stiff narrow ribbon bows.
Amy could scarcely believe this model of masculine perfection was about to be hers. She felt breathless, lightheaded, and nearly tripped at the bottom of the stairs, but Colin was there and caught her in his arms.
“No fainting, now,” he quipped. “I may look like a peacock, but I assure you I’m the same man you consented to marry.”
Clad head to toe in black and white, he hardly looked like a peacock. “No…you look…”
“Like a featherbrained fop, no doubt. These are my court clothes.” Setting Amy down, Colin threw a peevish glance up the staircase. “She made me wear them.”
Kendra’s laughter floated down. “No one makes you do anything, Colin Chase. Though heaven knows we’ve tried.”
“Besides,” Amy declared, “I was about to say you look incredibly handsome.”
Colin’s face flushed pink beneath his tan. He clutched the sides of his full breeches in a show of annoyance. “Just don’t expect me to dress like this often. A fellow cannot move properly with all this extra fabric hung about his person.”
General laughter greeted his comment.
Moving closer, Colin linked his arms around her waist and sought her gaze with his. “You look unbelievably splendid in that gown,” he murmured, his voice low so only she could hear. Then he smiled mischievously. “Though I look forward to helping you out of it.”
Amy’s cheeks burned hot as she remembered tonight would be her wedding night.
Someone cleared his throat, and she broke free of Colin’s embrace. Jason nodded toward her. “In the absence of your father, Amy, may I have the honor of giving you to my brother?”
For the countless time since this incredible day had begun, Amy’s throat closed with emotion, and her eyes filled with tears. Although saddened by the absence of her parents, she was oh so gladdened by her acceptance into this marvelous family.
She nodded mutely.
“Well, then, what are we waiting for?” Jason’s smile was warm and understanding as he offered Amy his arm. With a return smile and a swish of her satin skirts, she sailed past Colin and linked arms with her almost brother-in-law.
SIXTY-FOUR
AMY COULDN’T really remember her wedding. From the moment they entered St. James until she was handed a rolled parchment declaring her officially Amethyst, Countess of Greystone, the time swept by in an incoherent blur of unreality.
Oh, she remembered saying “I will” and hearing Colin’s “I will” boom confidently through the sanctuary. She remembered him slipping a cool circlet of metal onto her ring finger, and she remembered his long kiss, sealing her to him forever, the taste of him tinged with the sack he’d sipped while waiting. Jason had finally tapped Colin on the shoulder, and he’d reluctantly released her, and she remembered that, too. But the curate’s words—the continual drone that tied these events together—had been muffled by a distracted fog.
The ceremony was followed by a hastily prepared wedding feast at the Chases’ town house. Their formal dining room was filled with laughter from the inlaid wooden floor to the ornate painted ceiling.
Portraits of ancestors watched the proceedings from the walls overlooking the laden table. Silver platters bearing suckling pig, a roast round of beef, and duck stuffed with oysters and onions were brought steaming to the table, surrounded by bowls of peas, cauliflower, lettuce, corn, potatoes, and rice spiced with saffron and chopped nuts.
The scent of fresh, hot bread and sweet butter tickled Amy’s nose. Her cup was filled with claret wine punch spiked with brandy, nutmeg, sugar, and the juice of a lemon. As she drained it for toast after toast, she grew giddy with laughter and companionship, not to mention the unprecedented amount of drink she consumed.
In the center of the table sat a white-iced wedding cake decorated with candied violets and roses (in the middle of winter!), which Kendra insisted they cut and serve immediately in celebration of their marriage. Amy and Kendra ate their portions, but the men pushed theirs aside to have later.
Colin raised a brow,
